


Serving Despair, Lusting Hope

by Despair Girl (Nagitoes_Crackmaeda)



Category: Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Abuse, Blood, Bodily Fluids, Boyfriends, Chains, Choking, Cock Slapping, Collars, Face Slapping, Fluid-Swapping, M/M, Master/Slave, Smut, Spit Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:48:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24203143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nagitoes_Crackmaeda/pseuds/Despair%20Girl
Summary: I just want to start off by saying that I initially intended to write a fluffy, sweet, wholesome, and cuddly one-shot, but Satan had other plans.Yes, it might be a bit lengthy.Yes, it might be a little gross.Yes, I'm filth.???Profit.Anyway, enjoy.
Relationships: Servant/Izuru Kamukura
Comments: 3
Kudos: 97





	Serving Despair, Lusting Hope

Dim candlelight danced across the velvet walls of an otherwise dark room, casting an abstract glow that resonated something akin to a horror film. Several odd objects were vaguely illuminated, and though it would be difficult to make out their detail with the naked eye in such low lighting, there did seem to be a few pieces of dark, matching furniture.

Nagito Komaeda stood leaning against one of the marble pillars that decorated the suite, observing the shape of one, tiny flame as it flickered atop its white candlestick. He couldn't decide whether this atmosphere radiated that haunted vibe more than a romantic one, though he was certain that the latter was the intended. Even so, one could only assume such a thing based on the cliche trail of rose petals that curved in and out of the uneven light source, leading to a curtained, king-sized bed that was adorned in an excessively vibrant red. It was far too much. 

There were twelve sconces lining the four walls, each of a deliberately rustic design, and each bearing its own candlestick. He had found plenty of time to count them all as he waited, and plenty of time to judge the taste of who ever it was that had placed them there, too. While he was no expert on interior design, he couldn't help but to consider what a difference it would make to replace the medieval-looking wall sconces with a chandelier that donned them, instead.

Of course, there wasn't an inch of the room that _wasn't_ tacky; especially the black and white, checker-print tile floor, with its glossy sheen. 

There had to be some sort of underlying irony in the fact that one of Towa City's only remaining, fully-intact structures happened to be a love hotel. The state of the world outside just didn't really fit that same theme.

Disgusted with the gaudy decor, but bored with standing around, Nagito pushed himself back off the pillar and decided to explore. He crossed his arms over his chest and sighed as he began making his way towards the most central point of the unnecessarily-spacious room - the bed. Sick curiosity was luring him in; perhaps it was the very mystery of what might be laying beyond that curtain. Surely, it would just be an even gaudier setup.

The sound of his worn shoes clacking against the tile echoed away from him as he closed the distance. He reached his right hand out and allowed the tips of his fingers to brush the surface of a round-edged table on his way, picking up dust and revealing the deep mahogany beneath. "Disgusting..." He mumbled, wiping the dust away on his jeans. "Hmph."

On the opposite wall, behind the bed, was a wide window that stretched horizontally. If Towa wasn't swimming in fog, moonlight might have shown through, though that wasn't the case. The sky itself was mostly hidden by a gross cloud of pollution, and what few buildings still stood were nothing more than jagged silhouettes, far from their former glory. There was no 'setting the mood', here.

Carefully, Nagito approached the bed and reached a hand out to grab the curtain. In an instant, he tore it back, expecting ugly heart-shaped throw pillows and a fluffy, pink comforter. If only he were so lucky. Much to his surprise, and immediate annoyance, he was instead met with an all-too-familiar gaze.

A fully-suited man lay across the length of the bed, his raven-colored hair taking up the majority of the space in every direction. Unnaturally crimson eyes, narrowed in disdain, surveyed the male standing before him in mild bewilderment. He wore a tight frown, as usual, and displayed little emotion.

Nagito shook his head lightly, causing the chain hanging by his chest to rattle. Exhaling the remainder of his shock, he closed his eyes and ran a hand through his mussed hair. This didn't make much sense, but when did anything, anymore?

"You've found me," the dark-clad man finally spoke up, "I was wondering when you would come looking. I've been _very_ bored with this game for some time, now." His voice was touched by such indifference that it was difficult to believe that his boredom was even affecting him.

Izuru Kamukura was never one to initiate any sort of 'game', so why he thought that he was involved in one, now, was beyond Nagito's comprehension. The man usually took a more direct approach to their meetings; they would both decide on a 'where' and 'when', arrive at the specified time, and perform their sinful acts under the guise that neither of them cared about the other. That was the beginning and end, so why had he been hiding out here the whole time?

His confusion must have been obvious, because he wasn't given much of a chance to respond. "Ah, you don't like this game, either."

"What game...?" He breathed, turning to his side and sitting on the edge of the bed. It was quite comfortable, really; very plush. Nothing less to be expected from a love hotel suite. 

"The game of hide-and-seek. I thought we should try something different, to make things...more entertaining for you. I don't find it amusing, myself, however." Izuru blinked a few times, then shifted to make a bit more room for Nagito. He patted the freed-up space next to him, never taking his eyes off the other.

This was entirely too odd. "Hide-and-seek? Well, I suppose that really isn't any fun, unless both parties are aware of the game, to begin with." Nagito pushed back further onto the bed, pulled his legs up, and stretched out. "I'm not laying on your hair, am I?"

Izuru shook his head, staying silent. He then turned to face the ceiling of the canopy. Crossing his arms behind his head, he looked as though he was in thought.

Nagito knew better. The other man didn't have to do much thinking about anything; with his astonishing, analytical abilities, he easily absorbed new information. If he were truly contemplating something, he was probably devising some, new plan from the ashes of what had went wrong with his previous one. That was how he worked. "Look, let's forget that, for now. I won, right? I found you. So, that means..." His words trailed off. What did it mean? Oh, yea. Of course. "It means that I get to pick the next game."

Izuru perked up. "Oh? If that is the case, then what game are we going to play, servant?" His eyes darted towards Nagito, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed.

So, it was up to him. Nagito hesitated, but not because he hadn't come up with his own 'game'; no, he simply couldn't say it aloud. Or could he? "Tch, I choose...a game of role-reversal." It was difficult to even propose the idea, but the very thought both intrigued and aroused something within Nagito. For once, he could be the one dealing the cards.

He feared for a moment that he might be forced to go into detail if Izuru asked, but he was spared when the dark-haired male finally turned back to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Very well."

It likely meant nothing, but it felt as though they had come to an agreement far too quickly. Then again, Izuru hardly put up much of a fight over any request.

This begged the question: where was the line drawn? He had to have one. What better time to push in order to find out?

Nagito sat up and reached his hand around the back of his neck, thumbed around the inside of his collar until he found the tiny switch he was searching for, and pressed down. The collar popped apart, jolting the chain. It slid off his neck and fell to his lap with a heavy clang.

Despite being capable of leading her own revolution, Monaca Towa highly underestimated her servant's own ability to outsmart a simple locking mechanism. It came in handy to have that damn thing attached to him at all times, though.

He picked the collar up, clenching it tight in his right hand, and steadying it with his dead one. "I have one more request. Since I'm not playing the role of servant, this time, I want you to wear this." A knot swelled in his stomach, as he was not betting on as much compromise for this demand. Maybe Nagito was getting nervous. 

He peeked over to examine Izuru's expression. It was blank. Wait, there did seem to be a hint of curiosity in his eyes - or was it his imagination?

The seemingly-indifferent man cocked his head, shrugged a bit, and proceeded to lift himself up just enough for his partner to slip the collar on.

Nagito was careful not to catch any of Izuru's hair in the latch as he closed it around him, sealing the deal. "There. It's heavy, but I'm sure you knew that." He could only guess that he hadn't found that limit, yet. Still, he wasn't too surprised.

It was his turn to take control, and he wasn't going to be intimidated out of doing what he really want to do.

Izuru dropped his head back to the pillows, removing his arms from behind him and lowering them to loosen his tie. Once he had access, he worked to unfasten his dress shirt and then rose up out of his suit jacket. Bare chest exposed, he stopped there.

Seeing his opportunity, Nagito turned over and threw a leg around the other man, straddling him. "Allow me." Without much concentration, his fingers found Izuru's belt buckle. It didn't take long to pull the belt through his dress pants; he quickly discarded it off the side of the bed and moved on to the next layer.

"You have wanted to try this for some time. I can tell," Izuru stated, as bluntly as he always did. Though natural, he had a cocky air about him. 

"Hush. Kick off your shoes and help me out, here." Nagito continued fidgeting with the snap of the man's pants.

"So stern. This is unlike you. You're forcing it." Swiftly, and with a sort of grace, the dark-haired male kicked off his black loafers and arched his lower-half up against Nagito's body. "This is what you wanted?" A smirk crossed his tight lips. That was _new_. He swayed gently, then deliberately bucked into him, knocking him off-balance.

"Kamukura-!"

"You're taking too long. Put your new role to good use." The words came as a challenge. 

After readjusting, he gripped the hem of his partner's pants and dragged them down, flinging them off aggressively. "Don't try me. If this is the one chance I get, I'll make sure it counts." Nagito pushed his body down on Izuru, forcing him back into the mattress. With deft fingers, he collected the chain that now hung from the newly-collared servant's neck and yanked it up with as much strength as he could.

He brought Izuru's face inches from his own, enough to notice that the other was now visibly clenching his teeth and eyeing him with a mixture of shock and disgust. Without trying too hard, Nagito had successfully caught him off guard. _Good._ To observe someone like him, who had never expressed much emotion, now almost _squirm_ under the sudden strain, was...definitely arousing.

The familiar, dull ache from below instantly woke Nagito to his more primal instincts. Enjoying every minute, he pulled the chain tighter, reaching his arm behind him as far as he could. With the advantage of being on top, this did its job. A small whimper escaped Izuru, and his hands found their way to the rim of the collar.

The white-haired male pressed his nose against his submissive's forehead and sighed into his warm skin. "Ah, yes. That's more like it. How about you behave, now, and undo my jeans."

Izuru, resisting the collar, scoffed, "No." It was obvious he wasn't even trying, himself. The truth was that, if he really wanted Nagito to back off, he could easily enforce it. Yet, he didn't.

"Now." The order came cold.

Izuru must have decided to give in, because after a moment of playing with the collar, he sunk back and released his grip. Any slack in the chain was pulled thin as he moved around, awkwardly navigating the area below him. Even though he was only pretending to search aimlessly, it was a good show.

He eventually placed a hand on Nagito's thigh and travelled up it, until he reached his destination. With both hands on their mark, he struggled until the clasp came apart.

All the while, his eyes never left the other man's face; he couldn't look down, due to the width of the collar. _Helpless Izuru._ That was an enticing concept. Nagito briefly considered how lucky he was to experience such a foreign and profound version of his partner.

"There. I can't do much more with you in that position."

Knowingly, Nagito removed his leg from the left side. Still clutching the chain, he gave Izuru enough room to finish the job. 

He did. It was much too generous, but he was given what he needed to pull Nagito's jeans down to his knees. Without prompt, he moved on to the man's checkered boxers, but paused to play with newly-exposed flesh. His fingers caressed the top of his hipbone, eliciting tiny shivers. "Hah, you're so sensitive. How weak," he cooed, amused by the body's response. He dipped his index finger just below the curve and traced it back to the boxers.

Nagito jerked the chain, again. Who did he think he was? This wasn't _his_ game. He growled and spat at the lowly servant - only to instantly freeze up at the realization of his own, gross behaviour.

Frowning, Izuru wiped his arm across his cheek, where the saliva had landed. "That's it?" He didn't even flinch. Now, he was the one testing boundaries, albeit another sort.

_Really, where did that come from?_

"I didn't tell you to touch me, like that. You weren't given permission." Asserting dominance wasn't Nagito's strength, but he couldn't back down. Not now. Not after what he just did. "Pull it out. Go ahead, but don't try anything more." He ran his hand through his hair, clearing it from his sight. He wouldn't let the servant get away with anything else.

"Hmph..." Izuru's cheek still glistened with the remainder of the saliva, but he dropped his arm and carefully moved his hand back up Nagito's pale thigh, turning in at his crotch and cupping him gently. He stayed there a moment too long, purposefully rubbing his hard-on with his palm; teasing the man.

 _Cocky bastard._ There was a remedy for that.

 _Whack!_ The slap landed strong and firm, making solid contact with Izuru's cheek. It had already left a deep, red impression before the echo could fade out.

Eyes widening, Nagito tried his best to understand the light stinging in his wrist. _What was that? Where did that come from?_ No matter how he lingered on the idea, he couldn't make sense of his actions.

Izuru shut his eyes and exhaled as the dropped chain hit his chest, then opened them to show the same, bored expression. "Fine." His hand remained caressing Nagito for just a second longer before he trailed his fingers to the opening in his boxers. With ease, he managed to part the gap, releasing a tuft of white curls and letting his partner's dick fall out into place.

_Did that...work?_

Red eyes were inspecting his arousal. "Go ahead," Nagito urged, bucking his hips forward. "Try it."

The dark-haired male brushed a few, loose locks away from his face. He rested his elbow into the mattress and leaned over, his lips parting as he neared Nagito's member. It began with hot air and slight teasing, then he circled the tip with his tongue a few times and moved further up, resting his tongue to cradle his shaft.

The warmth of Izuru's mouth flooded Nagito's senses as the man continued slowly backing off, then pushing further up. Each stroke was expert. He was afraid of allowing himself to indulge too much; not to mention, he had the reigns. He placed a pale hand on top of the man's head and grabbed a fistful of his black hair, then yanked him forward. 

This forced out another, tasteful whimper. What a privilege.

Nagito directed the servant back and forth along his length, hearing his own breath hitch with the motion. He placed his gloved hand behind Izuru's head for support, and to keep him from slipping away. He certainly had his breathing controlled and didn't need a break - better yet, he didn't _deserve_ one.

"A-ah..." He pulled the man into him, even more, trying his best to apply pressure with his dead hand. He nearly had him at his base when Izuru grabbed his hips and pushed him away, far too aggressively for someone labeled the lesser, and proceeded to come up for air. His gasping breath felt cool against Nagito's tip, enhancing the sensation.

Izuru wasn't looking up at him, though; he was too focused on breathing. His eyebrows were furrowed, and his face was burning up from the short amount of work he had just put in. A soft glint of sweat beaded his forehead.

It wasn't enough.

The man needed to be ravaged the way he so often did Nagito. He deserved the same treatment, even if just for once. That lean, perfect body with chiseled features and all - it deserved to be roughed up and tossed around. Limits were made to be broken, right?

He quickly gathered the chain, wrapped it around his useless hand until it was tight, then snatched Izuru by his hair, again. "You're far from done. I thought you could handle it, but I guess I was wrong," he chided, pulling him in.

Izuru opened wide for more, unfazed by the comment. Wordless and humoring, he didn't even bat an eye when he was thrusted back into. It was entertaining to watch his cheeks hollow out as he sucked and tongued.

After a few minutes of beating the back of his throat, Nagito paused, cock half-in, and groaned. This wasn't cutting it, so he let go and unraveled Izuru's leash. He gave the man a yank for the hell of it, one last time, then pulled out. All this, still without any sort of reaction from his servant.

Gingerly letting the chain slide from his fingers and onto the comforter, Nagito bent his back in and shook his black, leather jacket off his shoulders. Once he managed that, he tugged the long-sleeve under that over his head and introduced his own, rather sickly, features. Lack of proper care had taken its toll on his body, but he didn't need to be as attractive as Izuru, anyway. "Worship me, Izuru Kamukura, the same way I've worshipped you each and every minute of our time, together." 

The servant blinked a few times, then slowly tilted his head up to meet Nagito's gaze and twisted smile. His glowing eyes reflected the dark swirls in his own, which only pissed him off for reasons he couldn't quite place. It could have been self-loathing, so perfectly depicted when Izuru looked up at him, but that wasn't something he could determine in that split second.

Nagito raised a hand, threateningly; the same one that previously guided Izuru by his hair. "As I said, I want you to worship me. Show me your submission."

Silence filled the room as Izuru's eyes shifted from his partner's cock to the readied hand. He nodded, quietly accepting this fate, versus putting an end to it all. After flipping his tousled tie over his shoulder, the man situated himself on his knees in front of Nagito, leaving some space between them.

Almost perfectly level with each other, Nagito couldn't help but to study his own face in the mirror of his servant's eyes a little closer, now much more clear than before. It stirred him up and made him absolutely nauseous. There was nothing he hated to see more than the illness of despair, especially in himself. It was _revolting_ , so much so that he involuntarily brought his hand down to meet Izuru's previously-marked face.

Another harsh sound resonated from the force. It had worked, though, because it broke the eye-contact instantly.

A shudder racked Izuru's body, which was a sign that something had broken through. The way he kept his cheek turned to Nagito was an indication of his talents at play - he understood what had just happened, and exactly why. Regardless, he didn't mention it. "Give me a chance to get close to you, and I'll give you what you want."

It would only be fair to oblige. Nagito vanquished the thoughts from his head and avoided catching Izuru's gaze, again, as he shook out his wrist. He did, however, watch as his request was fulfilled.

The servant dropped his hands to the mattress and crept closer, dark hair cascading off his back and entangling with the collar. His dress shirt hung in a messy fashion off his shoulders - a common image in the mind of anyone who might consistently read any form of erotic writing. He had become a cliche.

With steady posture, he placed his hands on each side of Nagito and pulled himself against the other male, lips just short of grazing his navel area. He breathed, heavy and hot, onto his skin. "May I taste more of your body?"

Nagito nodded, pleased at last with the cooperation. With consent given, his submissive began to plant kisses along his navel trail, first backtracking to the hem of his boxers and then circling back up. He paused above his belly button and nipped at the tender bit of flesh, but didn't push his luck.

With each, careful kiss came a shiver of heightened arousal. Izuru didn't stop until he reached a nipple, which he licked and sucked like he had some kind of deficiency. Once he had the first one hard, he moved across to the second one and gave it the same treatment, simultaneously pinching at the freshly-swollen nipple to continue the stimulation. 

A sharp gasp escaped Nagito, much to his own demise, as it only encouraged more from the servant. The sucking became light nibbling, and the strength in his knees began to fade. "H-ah, that's...no more, now."

Izuru ignored the pleading. His hands were crawling up to the other's shoulders, fingertips digging into the grooves of his collarbone. The tables were turning.

Fighting back against the merciless ecstasy was too much, and a lot less fun. If he just succumbed, Nagito would at least still enjoy himself, right? Or was he being given an opening to be more cruel? Decisions, decisions... He settled for one, final attempt at regaining his role as the dominant one. With shaky fingers, he reached down and gripped Izuru's throat, palm pressed firmly in front. "I said...no more..." If his body language didn't give him away, his cracking voice surely did.

The man in his grasp gave him a piercing look, which he tried not to focus in on, and then did something entirely unlike him - he smiled. It was absolutely a cocky sort of grin, as if to say 'make me', with the deliberate addition of bottom-lip biting that followed up with 'I bet you can't'.

_Bastard._

In his attempt to not look Izuru directly in his eyes, Nagito studied the space between the two of them. Unintentionally, he settled on something far more interesting - his cock resting against the man's stomach, still fully erect and leaking pre-cum. This gave him the idea for his next move.

He pushed Izuru back by his neck, eliciting a few small sounds, and crawled over him to straddle his upper-body. Shaft in hand, he hovered it over the man's lips. There was no mistaking Nagito's intentions, but he didn't seem to want to budge.

Nagito slapped the tip of his cock against those enticing lips, erasing the smug look he had been tormented with. When this didn't grant him an opening, he simply pushed himself in, wetting the gateway with pre-cum when he forced entrance. 

Upon making it past that usually tight and stern hole in Izuru's face, he reached up to grab the ornate frame of the bed and began drilling himself in. Relentlessly, and with a pent-up aggression that he didn't know he was even harboring until now, he fucked the shit out of him.

It had to be either Izuru's own, Ultimate Luck, or something uncanny, like Ultimate Dick-Swallowing, that kept his gag reflex from getting the better of him. The man barely made a sound as he expertly took the beating. Then again, Nagito's movements were causing a lot of squeaking from the bed springs, and unfiltered groans fluttered from his own throat. While he wasn't expecting things to go down in quite this manner, it didn't deter him from seeking his own pleasure.

The servant had wanted to torture him with his perfect touches, perfect movement, perfect face...never slowing down. This was never meant to be drawn out, or vanilla, from the very beginning. That had been established with the foreplay. So, Nagito wasn't going to allow any slack, in return.

The constant and irregular rocking of his hips grinding the sides of Izuru's head couldn't be the least bit comfortable. Yet, there was nothing more than a few, muffled moans coming from the receiving end. It didn't matter to him, anyway; he felt as though it would be a win for him just to use the man as his own, personal plaything.

The image of Izuru collapsing from exhaustion, filled with cum and covered in a crude mixture of body fluids, was almost all Nagito needed to send him over the edge. As much as he would like to stop thinking about it and prolong his climax, that wasn't going to happen. "Hnng...no...not yet," he mumbled between jagged breaths. 

He forced his hips to still and craned his neck low to try and get a glimpse of the servant's expression. He noticed in that brief moment that his hand was clammy against the wooden bed frame, and that the chain from the collar had caught beneath his leg, sure to leave it's own impression on his skin when he was done.

Despite his efforts, Nagito really couldn't make out the man's features under his shadow. That wouldn't do. He wanted to appreciate the mess he had to have made of Izuru's face.

The urge to just keep pounding down was causing his legs to shake, now, the break becoming more unbearable than any amount of vigorous thrusting. If he showed any more of this weakness, he'd be seen as though he actually cared about what state Izuru was in. Well, he did and didn't care; to be more accurate, he really only cared on his own, carnal terms.

Eventually, he gave up and moved his gloved hand, which had been at his side all this time, to the top of Izuru's forehead. Starting back up slowly, Nagito crammed himself down into the back of his plaything's throat, using the body beneath him to please himself without relinquishing any control. Soft walls closed tight around his pulsing need, unbelievably warm and wet. If this was what his newfound role was all about, then he certainly wanted more of it.

A disgruntled sound made its way past Nagito's dick, which he responded to with another, sharp thrust. This brought on more stifled vocalizations from Izuru as he began to shift restlessly. "Is this...enter...taining...for you? Are...you finally...impressed?" His groans slipped between his words. The fact that the other man couldn't even properly answer him was even more satisfying.

Izuru had other ways of communicating, though, and soon after the cruel question escaped Nagito's lips did he feel a hand grip his thighs roughly from each side. It didn't slow him down, right away; he absorbed the mild, pinching pain of the servant's ever-tightening fingers as he rattled the bed with his bucking. His movements caused Izuru's nails to drag into his skin, desperate for relief that wasn't going to be handed out so easily. The burning left behind only enhanced Nagito's determination to finish off.

With his amazing luck allowing him to experience Izuru in this way, he took nothing for granted when he thrusted his cock as deep into the servant's throat as he could. A howl of pleasure and release reverberated from Nagito as he felt himself reach his climax. His hot spill emptied into Izuru and swelled up around his throbbing member, pumping out all of his frustrations. It was an aggressive release that in no way he had ever come close to, before. 

The strength in his legs disappeared, leaving him shaky and weak. He hung his head below his arm, gasping for breath, sweaty palm slipping from the headboard. The adrenaline slowly wore off, and the wash of ecstasy lasted only a few, sweet minutes until he thought to remove himself from his throne.

On wobbly knees, Nagito pushed back, careful to not cause anymore damage than he had surely done. The squelch of fluids and his dick slipping out filled his ears, bringing on more disgust for himself. Trash like him had just sullied the Ultimate Hope. That should have made him hot and brought him to some sort of apex, but it didn't. Nagito hated himself.

Moving down onto Izuru's chest, he came to face the results of his monstrous lack of self-restraint. The servant's face was soaked in sweat and semen, with the dim light of the candles reflecting off his parted lips. He was sucking in air like he had never tasted it, before, and his eyes were rolled back, still fixed on the canopy.

Nagito wasn't supposed to feel bad about this. He wasn't supposed to feel ashamed. It wasn't like his partner had ever felt this sick after he had finished with _him_. So, why?

All he could do was study the aftermath. There were no appropriate words to fill the void that had followed. His mind began to fall into a dark place, collapsing in on itself. It had almost strayed too far when that condescending voice cut him in two: "Satisfied?"

Nagito could feel his hips twitch as his body tensed up, but he didn't reply. An odd fear was settling over him as he watched Izuru's eyes roll forward to stare him down.

"I predicted that you would lose control," the man stated, sharply. His covered lips barely moved when he spoke. "You don't have what it takes, but I hope it was worth it. Your selfish endeavors have led you to finish before you've even begun."

Every word bounced off of Nagito; his mind beginning to spin even faster. In the end, he disappointed his partner, because he took and took without any give. He had _failed_. Miserably. He was pathetic. Useless. Garbage. Scum. Trash.

_Pathetic. Useless. Garbage. Scum. Trash. Pathetic. Useless..._

"Nagito. This was expected, so get ahold of yourself."

Snapping back, he felt his facial features distort to match his internal feelings. The burning sensation on his thighs from Izuru's nails resurfaced, and suddenly, he felt every inch of his shame, physically. "Why did you...let me do it?" His fingers clenched at the thick comforter and hot tears welled in his eyes. It wasn't easy, but he brought himself to meet those crimson eyes.

"That was a lot." Izuru frowned, then added, "You need a change of diet. They aren't feeding you well."

Nagito wiped his tears just as they started to fall to his cheeks. "Y-you..." He hardly could get the beginning of a sentence out in his current state. His hatred for himself gave way to shock as he realized where at least most of his mess had gone.

Izuru nodded and brought a hand to his face, then delicately swiped a finger up his cheek to collect a thick glob of cum. He gingerly held the finger out to Nagito, an inch from his face. "You try it." It was more of a demand than an offer.

With no hesitation, Nagito leaned in and wrapped his lips around the extended gift, sucking back until he popped off. His cum was now cold and congealed; nasty, but he swallowed it.

"Good. Sit back." Izuru brought his elbows back and lifted up once his order was followed. "Now, I want you to clean the mess you've made of my face."

At his words, Nagito flinched. This was going to be his payback, it seemed. Now seated over his partner's lower-body, he eased himself down in a more relaxed position - only to be prodded by the stiff erection awaiting him. A sharp inhale drew Izuru's attention to the source of the white-haired man's discomfort.

"I see." That was it. That was all he said, leaving no room for backing out.

Pressing forward just a bit and feeling Izuru's hot and wanting cock slide up the crack of his ass made Nagito's insides flutter. It would be deceitful if he told himself it didn't make him feel a certain type of way, because his own need was reemerging. When had Izuru slipped his boxers off?

Lingering on the idea of feeling that warmth inside of him, he indulged in a few, dirty thoughts as he cupped a rather refined jawline in his dead hand. He brought Izuru's face close to his and stuck his tongue against his cool skin, then lapped at the saltiness coating the man's cheek. It didn't take him long to move down to Izuru's jawline, where he nibbled at the tenderness. He was quickly rewarded with a pinch to his nipple, which made him seize up, right away. He muttered a quick apology that may or may not have reached its recipient.

All he wanted to do was make up for the way he had treated his partner. It was, unfortunately, unsurprising that he had went completely feral, though it was confusing to him why he felt a need to sacrifice anything to make amends. Was it any different than Izuru being concerned about his diet, though?

None of that mattered. He tried to focus on the task at hand, easing his teeth off of the man's jawline and trailing along to his chin. After sucking the collected fluid clean, he next found himself at those soft lips. They were moist and cool and sticky and...amazing. Nagito gently tongued his bottom lip, then curved up at the corner and smashed his mouth against Izuru's. It wasn't a rush of boldness; no, he just couldn't fight the need.

Wet and sloppy kisses, salty remnants of cum, and delicious, captivating Izuru kept his mind racing and chest pounding. Half-expecting to be thrown off at any moment, he wasted not a single second exploring the cavern of the man's mouth, tasting both himself and the new, unfamiliar flavor of his partner. They had never kissed like this, not even once. It was refreshing.

Delightful dribbles of saliva cascaded down his chin, dripping to his bare chest. Nagito could feel Izuru sucking in his top lip, returning his spontaneous behaviour, and applying just enough of his teeth to make him feel really good.

The servant, having taken control, now, raised his hands to the other man's face and pulled him deeper into the kiss. _Interesting, but what did it prove?_ The walls of his cheeks closed in around Nagito's tongue, which was somewhat more intimate and arousing to him than feeling them around his dick.

White curls stuck to the sides of his head, matted down by sweat. Nagito's vision was blurring as they swapped something that might be considered love, if either of them would admit it. He relaxed his shoulders when he could feel his head being tilted back, sinking under the weight of their kiss. Izuru was then towering over him, passionately enveloping his body with his arms.

He was tugged in close by the embrace, their bodies colliding and sharing heat. He was being searched up and down fervently, hungry hands ending at the cusp of his ass. Izuru squeezed him tight and sighed into his mouth, then gave him a quick smack on the right cheek. "Your turn," he whispered into Nagito's ear once he finally broke away. His breathing was still fairly steady. The white-haired male could feel the consistency of it beating against his face.

They were making direct eye contact, and instead of seeing his illness reflected in those narrowed eyes, Nagito now only saw lust; both Izuru's, and his own. It was hapless of him to focus more on that than the man's words, however; he was soon to discover their meaning.

Once he finished fondling his partner's ass, Izuru's palms slid back to Nagito's cheeks. He guided his head upwards just a little further and pressed his lips back against his. He kissed continuously, as if he really enjoyed such a thing, then he paused and mouthed something like 'are you ready'.

Not really knowing what he should be ready for, but looking forward to it, nonetheless, Nagito nodded. He reached up to steal more kisses, then felt a hand creep up the back of his neck, settling at his nape. Izuru's fingers squeezed softly at the sides, evoking a shudder that rippled throughout his body.

The man's tongue dipped back into his mouth, but this time, a bitter fluid lit up Nagito's tastebuds. There was no mistaking it. The man had spit up a bountiful heap of his cum right into his own mouth.

The creamy texture was gagging. At least it wasn't cold, though that hardly made it any less awful. It didn't stop with the first mouthful, either; Nagito's entire load was being pumped back inside of him. Worried about the consequences of him spilling so much as a drop, he swallowed it all. It can't be said that this was an effortless task. 

Izuru pulled away and licked his lips, still leaning over him like a dark and elegant, human skyscraper. "Keep your mouth open," he ordered, "Tongue out." He removed his hand from Nagito's cheek and shimmied his tie off from around his neck, then slung it over the other man's head and pulled it tight. A suffocated whimper slipped out as he was tugged forward, the pressure on his neck from Izuru's other hand being applied more generously, in addition.

Unwilling to resist any command thrown his way, at this point, the roped male obediently opened his mouth wider and rolled his tongue out. It was impossible for Nagito to stifle his breathing, having been worked up by the sudden switch and prior occupancy of his mouth. A dribble of saliva fell from the tip of his tongue as he waited anxiously. 

He was relieved of the wait in an unimaginable manner when his partner cocked his own head at an angle and hovered closer, parting his lips just enough to be visible in the dim light, then allowed a stream of _his_ saliva to run out onto Nagito's tongue. Mostly without any hint of cum, the spit eased it's way down, tasting little of anything in particular. It seeped straight into the back of his throat, where it collected and sat.

Payback, tenfold, flowed right out of Izuru, endlessly. The man released the pressure he had on Nagito's neck by his fingers and moved his hand down to his shoulder. Without skipping a beat, he pushed into him with as much force as needed to knock him back onto the bed - hard.

The impact knocked a breath of air out of Nagito, disrupting the flow of saliva just a touch. The slack in the tie caught briefly, and he felt the heavy chain of Izuru's collar coil against his chest. A darkness surrounded him on both sides as his raven-haired partner fell on top of him, a stiff knee between his legs to keep him from attempting to raise up. It wasn't like he intended to, anyway; he didn't _hate_ the light rubbing against his still-sensitive shaft. He already knew with every expert and tantalizing touch that he was getting horny, again.

His focus needed to be on catching the wavering line of spit still connecting him and Izuru, though. What interesting punishment awaited him if he faltered? Dare he find out? The urge to swallow crept up on him. He tried to fight it, but he couldn't stand another second of the tickling in the back of his throat and instinctively shut his mouth to gulp down the puddle that had quickly formed. The thinning stream landed on Nagito's lips and chin, then ran down the bottom of his jaw.

He knew he was in trouble, but he didn't fear that. Izuru was a man wrapped in mystery, and that mystery always pulled Nagito back in, each and every time he agreed to see him under such circumstances. There existed parts of him that were yet to be understood and experienced, so naturally, he wanted to map out the mind and the workings of Izuru Kamukura a little bit more with each, moonlit meeting. It was a goal he planned to reach by overstepping boundaries that he wasn't sure even existed. Disobedience was going to be his strategy.

Graceful fingers slid off his shoulder and ghosted along his collarbone, then down the middle of his chest. Izuru was eyeing his imaginary trail curiously, almost contemplating the punishment best suited for the job. Of course, he had several ideas in mind, no doubt; again, his brain just worked fast. He brought his index finger to rest right above Nagito's boxers, then spoke softly, "You could stand to lose those, now." He was right, too, since they were beginning to chafe from all the movement, so far.

Nagito nodded gently. His hips quivered a bit from the touch, but he couldn't very well strip himself down with Izuru's knee in the way. 

As it turns out, he didn't need to. The other male hooked his finger on the inside of the hem and scooted his leg back, making the room he needed to tug them right off, with a little more shifting around in between. As carelessly as he tossed them away, his hands still worked delicately enough around Nagito's now semi-erect dick.

Izuru found his way back to those pale thighs, where he caressed the insides and cupped his hand to fondle Nagito's balls, applying the perfect amount of play without hurting the man. A crooked smile tugged at his lips. He was no longer playing the submissive; he could do what he wanted, and he did. He slid his index finger slowly up the middle of his sack, straight along the tender underside of his cock, then rested the tip of his finger on Nagito's tip. "I see your body refuses to deny its preference to your usual role," he clicked his tongue as he leaned in to mock the man's arousal.

"Hmph...mm..." Unable to form proper words, Nagito moaned as he felt Izuru press into the head of his dick and begin to lightly massage him. Tingling desire spread up through his groins, and his stomach tightened as his need grew. It wasn't fair how easy it was for Izuru to get a rise out of him. Or maybe it was simply his own, filthy libido to blame? He was a sick creature, after all. Sick and undeserving.

Even now, he ached for the same torture he pretended to be so against just moments ago, when he was given that false sense of power. How was that possible? Had he really jumped into such a role on a whim, and with no proper plan to execute? _Absolutley._ Now, without need for it to be verbally addressed, he had resumed the servant role. It befit scum like him a lot better.

Nagito crossed his arms above his head, balancing his body as he arched his back, hinting that he wanted more. He knew Izuru would receive the message, and that was confirmed well enough by the few, hearty strokes that he was given in response. When the man finally pulled away, Nagito brought his knees up and edged himself closer using the friction between his feet and the comforter. 

Izuru chuckled and carefully tucked his disheveled hair behind his ears, seemingly amused at the way he was being yearned for. "This suits you much better, you know. What a scene. You're so predictable." His words were laced with something that could be called humor, but he still spoke them so condescendingly that it wouldn't be easy to pick it all apart, if Nagito had even cared to. "Still, if anything impresses me about you, Nagito Komaeda...it is that you prove time and time, again, that the same tricks will always work on you."

That was twice, now, that he had used Nagito's name, and to think...he thought he had imagined it, the first time. He desperately wanted to dig for the meaning behind what Izuru said, but he still really couldn't muster anything. The man was acting different.

Nagito balled his hands into fists as he stretched his arms further out.

"You enjoy my taunting; too much for your own good, in fact. I've grown bored with it, which is why I allowed you your moment of fun, earlier. Now," Izuru paused for a moment, definitely for the effect it would have on Nagito, "I want to hear you beg for it from me. I can mostly predict how it would go, but I'm curious about how you might look doing it. I want to know if your face contorts the way I imagine it would."

Nagito didn't answer. How could he? What could he possibly say to that? All he wanted was to feel Izuru's throbbing heat inside of him. If he had to beg, of course he would do it. Something so demeaning was not beneath him. His breath was coming out hitched and desperate; his body already silently begged for the man.

He watched as Izuru straightened out his lean figure and popped his neck to the side to release tension. Obviously, he was waiting for something.

It took the white-haired male a moment, but he finally managed to find his voice. "Kamakura..." 

"Hm?" Izuru was back to sounding indifferent, his eyes wandering off in the distance. With his head turned, his jawline showed perfectly accentuated by flickering candlelight, and the rest of his contours were also outlined in a similar manner.

Again, Nagito was speechless. He was lucky that his partner was usually a patient man.

"Well? You were going to say something, correct?" He remained staring off into space, the remnants of a smirk still visible.

"K-Kamukura..." Nagito stammered, "I want..." He stopped to exhale the scent of sweat and other, bodily odors that clung in the air. Everything was driving him just a little higher. Yet, why was it so difficult to just _say_ the words? _Damn._

Izuru snapped his attention back to him. "Very well. I can always force it out of you." He had never been so vocal during their time together, but this version of him was interesting. He reached over and grazed the back of his knuckles along the shell of Nagito's ear, down his neck, along his jaw, and settled at the base of his neck, where he wrapped his fingers around the man's throat. Despite not squeezing in, right away, the energy he sent through was threatening, enough. Having dropped the makeshift tie-leash, he used his free hand to gather it up, again, and gave it a light tug to check its sturdiness. "Hmm," he hummed as he tossed the tie up in his palm. His relaxed posture shifted up, suddenly, and he moved so quickly that Nagito had no time to prepare before Izuru yanked the tie, forcing the other male's head to pop up from the bed. Simultaneously, the fingers at his throat squeezed in.

"Ghrk...! Kamu-!" Nagito strained. His own hands shot up and wrapped around the arm connected to his throat, but there was no give. He could try all night to remove the man's grip, if he wanted to.

"Vain resistance. You should try the begging, instead."

"Kam...ukura...pl...ease..."

"Mmm?" His fingers tightened.

"Please..." Nagito choked out, "Fill me...I don't...deserve it...but, please fill me...up, Kamakura."

Without a word, Izuru ducked his head to Nagito's shoulder, where he trailed more, sweet kisses to his chest. His teeth pinched at a tender part of his breast, and the man decided to linger, sucking until he was content with the mark he made. He kissed down, licked teasingly around one nipple, and moved on to suck on another patch of skin.

"Ple...ase...ah..."

But the licking and sucking continued, and once he found a spot worthy of it, which happened to be just above Nagito's hip, Izuru sunk his teeth in. This elicited a jerk and a shaky gasp.

"Please...fuck me..." Nagito choked out. He squirmed under the wandering lips of his partner, and drew more, trembling breaths each time he felt him nibbling at his body. Izuru had placed his knee between his thighs, again, and it was too enticing not to buck up against his leg. "Please..."

"You're making a mess. Stop," Izuru cut him off. Not that he could see from his position, but Nagito must have been leaking pre-cum all over him.

He dropped his arch and sighed as he softly fell into the mattress. His hands were still wrapped around the arm that held him by his neck, and his nails were digging into Izuru, now. "What does...it take?" He groaned through the tight walls of his throat. "Hnn...nngh...I'm ready."

"I need you to grovel, first. Your attempts have been pathetic."

"Please, then...I'll, ah, do...any...thing you ask of...me. You...can use me...punish...ment for...what I've done..."

"That isn't sufficient," Izuru stated, then gave Nagito another nip, this time on his upper thigh. He was heading lower, bypassing the man's erection. Fortunately, he was about as far as he could go, now.

"I'm ask... _begging_ you...to use me, Kamukura...please!" Fingers pressed deeper into the sides of Nagito's neck. If this kept up, he wouldn't be physically able to say much of anything else. The restriction of air was starting to get to his head, and though choking was a freshly-introduced aspect of their sex life, now, it didn't scare him to feel his body grow faint.

Izuru knew what he was doing - he always did.

Before he was certain that he would go limp from the tingling numbness that had overcome him, the pressure was suddenly released. Nagito immedietly began to swallow down air, letting go of Izuru's arm as it pulled away and fumbling to rest his own hands against his chest. 

"What do you say?"

Nagito couldn't find his voice, right away. He couldn't even interpret that question.

Izuru cleared his throat, impatiently. Then it clicked.

"T-thank...you..." That must have been it. _Right?_

"Good. Now, what were you trying to tell me? You wanted something."

 _So there was more._ He wanted to hear it, clear as day, from his lips. That was how it was going to be. Nagito hesitated, again, relishing in something that he took for granted every second of his miserable life - breathing.

"I...want you to use me, Kamukura." His words wavered on the edge of desperacy. "Please, u-use me. I want you...inside of me. I'm...I'm really begging you."

Izuru smirked, then swiftly grabbed Nagito by his calves and hoisted his legs up over his shoulders as he settled between them. "As you wish." Glittering eyes held true amusement when he scanned the length of the man's body, taking in every, trembling inch. His gaze rested on his now-exposed entrance. "I want you to prep yourself. I'd like to watch."

His command prompted the white-haired male to deftly stick two fingers in his mouth, quickly coating them in his natural lubricant. A dripping trail followed his fingers as he dragged them out and lowered his hand between his legs. "This...is what you want to see?" He rimmed the outside of his quivering hole, lightly pushing in. _One...two..._ Nagito sighed and relaxed into his own touch, letting his saliva work its magic as he massaged his insides.

After playing around for a bit, he removed his hand to gather a bit more spit, this time allowing it to dribble off his fingers and against his opening. "That should be enough. I...I don't need that much...preparation, really."

Izuru nodded, still intently observing every move. Adjusting Nagito's legs to sit comfortably, he inched closer, enough for the tip of his cock to rest against the man's ass. "Tell me what you want."

"F-fuck me."

"You want me to fuck you, Komaeda?" His tone shifted, and with the last word, he spat. Surely, it was by his talent that it landed right on his mark - Nagito's dripping hole. "You're disgusting."

The insult was biting, but in the best possible way. For someone that knew they weren't worth the air they consumed, and happily accepted that, being told the truth just amplified Nagito's desire to be abused and treated like shit.

"I...k-know. Please." He pulled his legs in against his partner and dug the heels of his feet into him. It wasn't like he could be honest about it, but he wanted Izuru to keep degrading him, like that. How he could have feinged any sense of confidence or authority, before, was shocking to him, now. He _wanted_ to be used like a doormat. "I know...I'm worthless. You're too...good for me...I shouldn't have..." He couldn't bring himself to finish.

The answer to his pleading came from a prod to his delicate opening. Izuru's thickness was sitting firm against him, and he greedily pressed harder into the man's back. It wasn't much, but it worked - he felt himself stretch around the head of his cock. "Pl...ea...se," he groaned, wantonly reaching down to stroke himself; even a little would do. 

Nagito's hand was smacked away almost as soon as the thought had entered his head, and then his scolding followed, "I haven't been relieved, yet. You think I'd let you enjoy yourself on your own terms, a second time?"

He flinched, half-lidded eyes scanning Izuru so that he may determine the depth of his annoyance. "I'm sorry..." He wasn't, though. Testing the man was _fun_ , especially since it brought on a more aggressive form of dominance.

"Don't lie to me," Izuru snapped, impertinent, "Those vacuous eyes of yours tell me you're nearly at your limit. If you show me one more time how bad you really want it, I'll give it to you."

"I want it...more than anything. Undeserving...worthless...pathetic...I want it."

"You are undeserving, worthless, and pathetic?"

"Y-yes...I don't want...you to go easy on me." Nagito lifted himself and tossed his hips forward. "Ahh...ha...I'm begging you, Kamakura."

"Good." The dark-haired male bucked forward, unexpectedly, shoving his girth into that rather tight hole.

"Nnhgh...! K-Kamukura!" The wail was drowned out by the bed rocking, once more, as two bodies bounced into the mattress. The thrusts were fluid, carefully guided, and _hard_. Since there was no gentle start, it _did_ kind of hurt, but Nagito also kind of _liked_ that. His dick ached for his attention - or Izuru's, of course.

He eagerly began to match himself with the movements. It wasn't easy, since he wasn't as perfect as Izuru, and his balance was still a little off, but it felt so good to grind into him. His eyelids were drooping, and if he could see his face, he would probably be embarrassed by the lust-stricken expression he definitely featured. "Ah...hah..." Deeper and deeper, he was feeling his insides squeeze inward, hungrily.

A harsh slam jostled his brains, making his thoughts spin until they were murky. He melted against the sheets, unable to keep moving from the energy he exerted when he wastefully rode Izuru's face into the pillows. How he regretted that.

The other man was holding back, though. He knew where _that spot_ was, no doubt, but he wasn't going for it. Nagito didn't have a right to ask for such pleasure, anyway. He would settle for anything and everything he was given. Besides, hadn't he begged for this?

Nagito's body glided effortlessly with each and every thrust. Entire body shaking, he didn't even try to contain his moaning as he strenuously grabbed for bunches of the comforter or...something; _anything_. He had no stability, and soon enough, his head was being rammed right into the headboard. "Aghk...! Ah...! Tchk...Kamu...kura...gah!" He flailed his arms helplessly, then managed to tuck one in between him and the wooden frame in his brief moment of panic. "Kamu...aghk!"

His cries reached deaf ears. He squinted, and through the curtain of flowing, dark hair swinging around him, he could make out Izuru's expression. It was one of focus, but also raw determination. The idea that he might just be staking his revenge on Nagito was...completely hot to the whimpering mess of a man.

It wasn't going to slide, but he couldn't help himself - Nagito replaced his cushioning arm with his dead one, freeing up a hand to, as stealthily as he could, tend to his neglected dick. His actions were, as expected, thwarted by another slap to his wrist.

It wasn't the end; that was a second offense. Izuru grabbed his wrist as he jerked away, then pinned it down beside his head. Nagito didn't know his other hand had been gathered, as well, until his head was smashing the solid frame, again. He groaned, dazed by the pain.

Izuru had him down for good; no mercy or softness. It felt unreal. For the first time, the man had kissed him and used his first name and allowed him to desecrate his throat, and now? Now, he sent him springing into the headboard.

"S-stop..." _No. That wasn't audible at all._ "Stop...please..." Nagito curled his fingers in. He whimpered out with every second of the blunt contact. The aching in his head had been consistent and dull, at first, but now it was too much for him to handle.

 _Thump...thump...thump..._ The sound rang in his ears and occupied his headspace.

He felt something hit his face; no, multiple _somethings_. _Wet._ They fell seconds apart from each other, and he knew exactly what it was. Nagito strained his neck, turning a cheek to block out any of the spit from getting into his eyes.

"Your color, ah, it is...so stark against that...pale skin of yours," Izuru huffed after another long stretch of silence. There was endless stamina stored inside of him, it seemed, because the pounding never so much as lost rhythm.

The remark didn't land a reaction. Nagito was dizzy and feeling physically drained, albeit still hard as a damn rock.

His partner loomed over him like some kind of predator admiring and commenting on his prey, so selfishly ignoring needs other than his own. If he could think straight, he would have asked himself if this was the sort of degradation he really wanted, or if he had made a mistake in repeatedly asking for this.

But he couldn't think at all - only feel.

Nagito had become the doormat he wanted to be, and at quite the price. His insides burned. Izuru wasn't letting up, no, he was trying to make him suffer. His wrist, the one he could feel, felt like it might snap under the other man's weight at any given second.

It was just short of torture, and that wasn't going to be the worst of it. Nagito knew that _before_ the situation had grown intolerable.

"Don't act so surprised. You asked for every bit of this, Komaeda. I heard it from your own lips."

That voice always brought him back from fading consciousness. _Is this the real Izuru? Truly cold? Or was this just him taking his role to a new level?_ Nagito found the strength to form a thought or two, at last.

Every thrust swung Izuru's chain around, which was still coiled at the bottom on Nagito's bare chest. The friction didn't bother him like everything else did, but it was dangerously close to whacking his chin. If the man leaned in, anymore, it probably would. He couldn't even avoid it.

"You...you're hurt...ing me..." His teeth clenched tight. It hurts. _It hurts, it hurts, it hurts._ "I...can't..." The headboard, his teeth, his wrist, his sore hole, the chain grazing his chin, his inability to breath or scream...

Then, a sick ' _crack_ ', followed by a hollow crunching resonated in his head. Everything stopped at once. The chain connected with his chin, finally. "Aghk...!" One blow, and then its swing slowed. Nagito's eyelids fluttered wide open. He blinked the sweat away and attempted to figure out what had just happened.

Izuru, deep inside of him, ceased his ruthless craze. _Was this mercy?_ Or, was something wrong? The man's lips were parted, and his eyebrows rose...in shock. What could possibly elicit a reaction like that from him? His face looked frozen. _What did he do?_

 _What did I do?_ Nagito had to wonder. He was grateful for the break - should he thank Izuru? Is that what he wanted? He just didn't know, and the pain surging through his neck to the top of his head was distracting him.

Relieving the pressure on his wrists, Izuru sat back, still visibly concerned about something. He gingerly removed Nagito's legs from his shoulders and dropped them to the bed.

 _What? Whatwhatwhat?_ The question never made it off his tongue. Formulating words in his head was easier than mouthing them, right now.

Nagito moved his numb arms around to get the blood flowing, again - well, in his one good arm. He would have bruises for days to come, but he could live with that evidence of their night together.

More importantly, _why was Izuru making that face?_ He wasn't even saying anything. _And what was that sound?_

Looking away, he straightened his arms out at his sides, angled them down, and then crossed them over his chest. A sigh floated past his lips. Everything was okay. He was okay...except for his damn, throbbing headache. Groaning, he brought his dead hand up to rest the soft mitt atop his scalp. That's when he noticed.

The glove must have slipped off at some point, because the decaying, thin-fingered hand of Junko Enoshima dangled in front of him, now. _Dangled._ Not in the same way it always had, either. It _flopped_ to the side in a crooked fashion, red nails chipped and broken.

"H-huh...eh..."

Black and blue flesh swayed in front of him. Nagito hadn't even seen Junko's hand in...a while. It had been a while. Seeing it just hang from his body made him want to purge anything that might be on his stomach.

Weak and frail, Izuru had clearly broken his wrist.

Revulsion had set in, and so had another emotion. Something Nagito wasn't used to was coursing through him - anger. The power he had stolen from the Ultimate Despair had been crushed under the weight of her total opposite, symbolizing something that, at one time, he would have praised. Not now, though. He was riddled with his own despair and he _hated_ Izuru for damaging that little piece of his twisted obsession.

"K-K...Kamukura!" He exclaimed and threw himself up at the man. In blind rage, his target was any part of his body that he could cling to.

An elbow to the face threw him back down, pain searing from his nose instantaneously. He was no match for Izuru's reflexes and precision.

"Don't act out like that, again." A piercing tone held the true meaning behind those cruel words: _You know what I'm capable of._

The iron taste of fresh, warm blood soaked Nagito's senses. He might have a busted lip from the way it was already swelling up, but his nose was definitely pouring into his sinuses. "You...you've ruined it. You ruined _her_ ," he coughed, clearing his throat temporarily of backed-up blood and making room for an inhale of hot air. Miserable tears were welling in the corners of his eyes, this time from his stinging wound and how absolutely pissed he was at Izuru.

"I will admit, it was intentional. That poor excuse for a _l_ _imb_ almost infuriates me. I say almost, because usually, I do not care; however, the mitt came off and I wasn't prepared to see...that disgusting thing," Izuru explained way too calmly. His arm was still angled out in front of him, from where he had struck Nagito, making him appear as defensive as he sounded.

There was no excuse. Nagito seethed, reaching his boiling point. It wasn't a concern whether or not Izuru broke him with intent, but the confirmation did rekindle his anger.

"Don't eye me with such distaste. You are the one that disgraced yourself in such a way. I merely relieved you of ever being able to fondle yourself in a sloppy manner with that filthy hand like I know you have done. Nothing escapes me, Komaeda. If you were half-sane, you'd realize that your attempts at hiding your lust for her were feeble. Even you saw the despair in your own eyes, and hated it. Now, you are on the defensive. You can't really decide on adoration _or_ hatred; lust _or_ loathing. Face it, you're a disaster."

With that, Nagito crumbled. His twisted hand fell to his chest, tears flowed over, and every one of his muscles relaxed. Wordlessly, he withdrew from the fight. Izuru wasn't wrong, because he couldn't be. The man knew damn near everything there was to know, and he saw right through that shitty display.

"Right, then." The dark-haired male fell back to the sheets, hands beside Nagito's head and face right above his. "Don't forget I'm still inside you, and still have control. You're mine for as long as I have you, then you can run back to _her_."

Junko was dead, so Izuru spoke metaphorically. Could he be jealous? Of a dismantled corpse?

Seriously rolling the idea around in his brain, Nagito wasn't at all ready for the nudge he recieved down below. Sorness crept back when his partner started up for the second time. He needed something to hold onto, and so, he willingly wrapped his legs around Izuru's hips and crossed his ankles behind him. He gasped from the mild pain, and then the pleasure that followed.

He half-expected to greet the headboard, again, but it didn't happen - Izuru was gentle and composed, and that included his facial expression.

If it was pity, Nagito didn't even want it, but he would ignore that for the time being. Since he was graced with the opportunity to enjoy being fucked, he did his best to put what little energy he had left towards conveying his submission. If he played along, he wouldn't get hurt. 

Honest moans rose from his throat. His cock was even getting a bit of the attention he had craved - soft skin brushed his tip, due to Izuru's positioning, and that was plenty for him to be satisfied with.

Every time the man eased off and plunged back in, shivers of delight crawled through Nagito. He didn't even care, anymore, that he could still taste the blood in his mouth, or that his face was likely bruised to hell and back. In fact, he didn't even care about his dead wrist. He owed Izuru release.

The rest could wait.

A few, muffled groans came from overhead. Each pump was getting faster than the last, and slender fingers found themselves to Nagito's shoulders, thumbs pressed firmly underneath. Izuru was bearing down. That had to mean he was almost there.

Another sharp sigh, and then the man's hips quaked with the last, serval thrusts he dug in. He squinted his crimson eyes and vocalized his finale with a deep, guttural moan. His girth throbbed as he came hard, now panting his breath.

Nagito pulled him closer, allowing the thick, lasting flow to consume him. When he felt the pull-out, he could just imagine the cum leaking from him, a heavy load barely contained by his tight walls. It made him want to jerk off so, _so_ bad. He needed permission, of course; it wasn't worth the trouble of disobeying. 

There was a lot he had the chance to experience by disobeying, already. He was done with that.

Izuru exhaled and eased back onto his knees, forcing Nagito's legs to become unfurled. They gaped open at his sides, revealing the damages. A discerning glance at the man's arousal meant something was brewing in his mind. "Komaeda," he spoke as if he hadn't just flatlined him, "I want you to hold your hips up, for me. I'll help."

Nagito's body had just started to cool down. He didn't feel like lifting his damn hips up. "Hnn...eh..."

"Tch, don't look so confused. Do you want me to give you a hand or not?" 

He quickly nodded, unwilling to pass on that permission being granted to him. So, he folded his legs in and pulled them up, heel to ass, and scrunched his hips up. With only one good hand to support his weight, it wasn't an easy task. He couldn't even really rig his dead hand under his back for added stability.

"That's fine," Izuru stated, then suddenly, he was against Nagito, giving him a push.

This flipped him straight up, which pained his neck, but a shift of his shoulders resolved that. However, he wasn't too thrilled that his own erection was directed right at his face. "Gah, Kamuku...ra!"

An arm slithered around Nagito's thigh, where it rested while Izuru grabbed his shaft. He gasped, but settled his weight against the male. Red eyes rose over his ass as he became a cushion for a rather pointy chin.

Izuru laid his cheek against the inside of his thigh. Content with this setup, he began his stroking, looking unamused while he pleased his submissive.

"Hah...Kamukura...than...k you, ahh..." Nagito whined at the sensitivity. His legs once more fell to his partner's shoulders, and knowing this would be over quickly, he managed to deal with his coiled body restricting his airflow. Dried blood clotted his nose, too, which was also a bit of a hindrance. That's fine. He got what he wanted.

Bucking into Izuru's hand nearly flipped him over; thankfully, the man's arm held him back. "I can keep you balanced. Do what you need to."

That was all he needed to hear. The smooth fingers gliding up and down his dick felt way too amazing to fight, anyway, so he kept throwing his hips forward. It didn't do much good, but just letting his body act on its own was way better than being forced to resist his urges. "Thank...hng, you..."

Holding out for so long had officially shortened the lifespan of the session, because Nagito barreled in on himself one last time and spewed his load all over his chest, dirtying his face. Even he could have predicted this mess.

Eyes shut, he accepted this end. If his patience had paid off, it was only because of what happened after he came on himself, though.

"You've finished. Good, now," Izuru slid back and allowed the other male's body to fall down into the mattress, "Relax."

The cool sheets were comforting. Nagito had worked up quite the sweat, more so during his time being coiled up and pressed into the other's heat. He dreaded the idea of ever having to move, again. To just doze off here...

"Wait. Let me clean you up, first."

His eyes shot open, and gray-green orbs shining in pools of crimson greeted him. Izuru's breath was cool and just as steady as it had been this whole time. His pupils moved across Nagito's soiled features. Cum, sweat, spit, blood: all reflected in his eyes. With a new sense of softness, he rewarded his lesser by licking up the product of their love-making; for lack of a better term, maybe.

Izuru sucked up the raunchy combination of fluids. His tongue began below Nagito's nose, where crusted blood had come back into its deep, red color from fresh moisture. Then, he moved to his lips, which were still very sore, too. His chin, curving up his jaw, circling his cheeks...it happened slowly and methodically until he was as close to 'clean' as he could probably get.

"There. You can rest, now, if you want."

Nagito sighed. Before he allowed himself to drift off, he mumbled, "You'd probably get off on watching my guts spill, huh? Since you're..." He yawned, fatigue taking over, before he finished, "Such a sadist."

He heard the low 'tch' from Izuru, who didn't dare offer any kind of aftercare or cuddling, but remained by him, nonetheless.

His warped and dreadful world faded to black. At least he didn't have the time to think about everything that was so fucked up with it before succumbing to sleep.


End file.
